Brave
by vinh
Summary: "Being brave and making it count." For Prompts in Panem - March 2013


_**Brave**_

_Summary:_ "Being brave and making it count." For Prompts in Panem - March 2013

_Prompts:_ Modern Locations - Cemetery

_Trigger:_ Character Death

_Pairing:_ Everlark

* * *

This time of the year was always rough for him. Not only was it cold and snowy, it also meant dealing with his least favorite holiday of the year. Christmas was an event that he have never looked forward to as a child, and that had not changed with adulthood. As a child there had never really been a loving family to spend it with, and now as an adult definitely no good holiday memories to hold dear. It has always been just another lonely, hunger-filled day. Until her. Even after her fleeting presence in his life Christmas was merely bittersweet, only now with a melancholy visit to the cemetery.

The silent, stinging breeze of a light snow was raining down on his face, his long unkempt hair whipping back and forth in the wind. Blinking back tears, he knelt down to gently placed down his bouquet of Viola flowers on the ground.

Lost in his own thoughts and grief, he absently took a ran his hand through his hair and shyly offering her a whispered, "Hello, Love I miss you. So very much."

He spent the next hour catching her up on the last year, as well as sharing his hopes, failures, and dreams for the next year.

He could feel the tears running on his cheeks, "I wish that you hadn't left me alone so soon. Sometimes, I still wish for it even though I finally have loved ones…"

He had to pause to wipe his eyes, "I don't know if I can be someone else's loved one. I keep thinking what if I do something wrong, will they stop loving me? What if it gets taken away? I just…just…"

After his sobs had run their course, he found it in himself to sadly smile at his beloved's gravestone, "I'm keeping my promise. I'm not giving up but sometimes its so hard. I just don't know how to do this without you. No one had ever really needed me but you."

He slowly pulled himself up to stand, "I'll make you proud and live well for the both of us. To make it count," he whispered to the wind, hoping that his words made it to her.

It was a slow and arduous walk back to his house. He carefully stomped his feet to loosen the snow clinging to his boots before grabbing the presents he had stashed just inside the front door that morning. Checking the time he realized that he was running late for his obligatory Christmas dinner.

Sighing sadly he looked down at the colorfully wrapped presents in his hands. After all these years the whole idea of exchanging presents with anyone baffled him. When he had been with her, it had always been the little things, the unexpected acts of kindness. He had never realized how agonizing it was to pick out the perfect present. He hoped they liked their presents and felt the love behind them.

He awkwardly shuffled through the snow towards the front door, but the sight through the window stopped him dead in his tracks. He felt his heart ache painfully in his chest as he watched the family within. The girl energetically dancing around with her shadow toddling along behind her. He could feel the love and warmth all the way outside. He contemplated leaving them to their happiness, untainted by his melancholy.

He had just turned on his heel to go, when a familiar voice call out, "There you are. Didn't think we were going to just let you wander off now, did you?"

"Never, sweetheart," he whispered as he made a half-hearted attempt to push his hair out of his eyes.

She merely scowled in reply at him as she held the door open for him, her other hand resting on the growing swell of her stomach. It warmed his heart to see that after all these years her eyes have finally lost that clouded, tortured look. It took a long time for her and the boy to get to that place where it could be good again. To realize that life goes on.

"Merry Christmas, sweetheart," he smirked as he made his way past her, suddenly anxious to greet his grandchildren.

He stopped to inhale the scent of freshly baked bread as he stepped into the kitchen, before dropping the presents on the kitchen table and greeting his favorite baker. He's a broad-shouldered man now, spitting image of his father right down to the ashy blond hair that fall in waves over his forehead.

"This is my family. Real or not real," he can't help but interrupt as the memories of his life after the war swirled around in his head.

"Real," the baker whispers back with a happy content smile.

A smile grew across his face as he realized his wife would have been proud of him and the kids for making it count as her namesake ran into the kitchen and launched herself into his arms.

"Merry Christmas, my brave, brave little Effie!" he whispered into her hair.


End file.
